


'CONFESSIONS OF A FASHIONISTA: UNCOVERED REFLECTIONS.'

by RunePhoenix6769



Series: FIELDS OF GOLD [5]
Category: CROSSHARES - Fandom, RWBY, RWBY au - Fandom
Genre: AU, Bratty Coco, Chocobunny, Classical Music, Committed Relationship, Consensual Kink, Crosshares, F/F, Fields of Gold AU, Filthy, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Light Spanking, Poor Walter!, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spicy, Strap-Ons, Velvet actually curses, filthy language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunePhoenix6769/pseuds/RunePhoenix6769
Summary: Carrie Mortimer, or rather Coco Adel as most people would know her, has been laid bare.And she most certainly did not expect to find what she has been searching for in the arms of a timid and talented photographer.Yes, timid is a word often used to describe Velvet.But Coco has come to discover there is truth to the idiom,'Never judge a book by it's cover.'(To blindly believe such a thing 'could' result in a light spanking.)
Relationships: Coco Adel/Velvet Scarlatina, Crosshares - Relationship
Series: FIELDS OF GOLD [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327589
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> .
> 
> Part of the Fields of Gold AU. 
> 
> A companion piece to Confessions of a Fashionista. (not mandatory reading.) Set after the initial story.
> 
> A one shot that can/should probably/ be read as a stand alone. 
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> p.s It's the first time I've tried writing like this and I'd love to hear feedback and pointers where I could improve and if I've got it right or wrong etc. Cheers.

.

The way that Velvet remains in the town car waiting for the door to be opened is a glaring indication that she has picked up on the cues given all night and that Coco Adel - not Carrie Mortimer - is in trouble.

Usually there are matching twin bands of platinum on their fingers - a symbol for the world to see just how serious they are about each other - but this evening Carrie had replaced hers with a piece of jewelry seldom worn in public, custom made and no less important as an offering of commitment. Its meaning known only to Velvet.

Their presence had been requested at an industry soiree; something the usually timid photographer had learned to tolerate being part and parcel of her paramour's profession and something that often couldn't be avoided. And Carrie in turn had begun attending them less and less. 

Unfortunately, it had backfired like some fucked up catch twenty two.

The retreat from the public eye had only added to the mystery of Coco Adel and had people clamoring for her attention. Invite after invite poured in and now she was the one of the most wanted guests on the most exclusive of lists and it was seen as a great accomplishment indeed to even receive a reply, whether RSVP or not.

Not that anyone would ever suspect the real reason why her night life had become so selective was born out of not wishing to force Velvet to suffer more than she had to. Besides, Carrie much preferred the company of her fiancee and handful of genuine friends that had taken a lot of sharp lessons and therapy to earn.

Often, Carrie was swept away by financiers, surrounded by gushing models and actresses each with a mind to attempt to steal her from a photographer relegated to nothing more than a far off satellite orbiting a star, and deemed as of little to no consequence in the grand schemes of fame and fortune. 

_Surely Coco wanted to burn brighter and hotter, be seen? To merge with another to become a supernova - a power couple unrivaled - blazing across the sky?_

If any of them had taken the time or cared to notice they would have seen that Velvet wasn't the satellite, she was the Sun - bright and blinding - and Carrie Mortimer was in the gravitational pull of something far beyond their meager offerings.

Nothing annoyed Carrie more than witnessing Velvet be dismissed. She had parted ways with PR managers because of it, refused partnerships because of it, humiliated arrogant men and women publicly because of it. 

The only reason why Coco Adel shined so bright these days was the patience of a woman who had grabbed the dying embers from the brink of a black hole and breathed life into the ghost of a person on the cusp of being lost forever.

None of her peers suspected that Coco Adel was the fake, a mask, a character that Carrie Mortimer donned when she needed to; the symbiotic partner in this great charade. That Coco Adel was the biggest con artist of all, not the relatively unknown Australian woman many suspected only wanted the famous fashion designer for her fortune and status.

In order to prepare for these occurrences and make the whole ordeal a little more tolerable they would sometimes employ a game of sorts; the rules of which had been painstakingly discussed but at this point were second nature given with the subtlest of hints.

And this shadow dance - the Odette and Odile that was the fashion designer - would always begin with a delicately crafted piece of jewelry that settled on the pale throat of Coco Adel, a challenging quirk of a perfectly shaped eyebrow as she slipped a small black lacquered box on the counter, returned with a silent narrowing of the eyes and pursing of lips when the box was opened and Velvet clipped the thin gold watch round her wrist; an acknowledgement that said challenge was accepted and permission given for the ballet to commence.

Theirs was a two-voiced harmony. No part more prioritized than the other, freely spinning around each other in equal importance. 

All it took for Velvet to call a halt was to utter the name _Carrie_ in public and it would cease immediately. Until then she was free to inhabit the skin of Coco Adel and all that came with it. If Carrie wished for it to come to an end or changed her mind, all it took was for her to remove the silver choker.

It was a safeguard they had never had use for but it paid to have in place just in case.

-x-x-x-

_Coco Adel was a tease and liked to push buttons, knowing full well the response her obnoxiousness could possibly elicit. She was smug and arrogant, bordering on rude, all the while drawing the molten eyes of her intended who watched and cataloged each infraction and replied to Coco's advances with cool indifference. And this evening, wishing to draw a _ **particular**_ reaction - like a brat in a sky scraper pushing at the elevator panel - Coco had lit every button on fire._

_It had come to a head, the shamelessly sucking on a straw, the fleeting touches and caresses when she passed by, the flirtatious giggles shared with a particularly enamored actor, the cocksure flashing of cash that had waiters tripping over themselves to serve her. On the surface the persona of Coco Adel couldn't be cooed. She told others what to do and made them do as _ **she**_ willed. They catered to _**her**_ every whim._

_Apart from one exception._

_When Coco had excused herself to go to the rest room she had been followed into the stall. A firm hand catching her wrist and a lithe body behind, trapping her against the door caught between the cool wood against her skin and hot breath at her ear._

_"You're being particularly full of yourself this evening."_

_Coco cheekily wiggled her ass against strong hips that had moved out of the way leaving the fashion designer to hit nothing but air. It had garnered a dark chuckle and a set of firm fingers had slithered under the hem of her expensive backless, halter neck dress skirting up her inner thigh,_

_"Are you that desperate for attention?-" Coco had let out a small whimper. Further down there came the sounds indicating that the other stalls were occupied, " - I could take what I want from you right here and make you moan so loud everyone will hear! Show them what the great Coco Adel is _ **really**_ like? What do you think they would make of that, hmmm?"_

_Hearing the usually timid and soft spoken Velvet growl something so lewd had made Coco's hips involuntarily buck, seeking her fiancee's fingers further up. An all too brief swipe of a thumb followed the underside curve of her ass cheek and then it had disappeared garnering a whine and four nail grooves nearly carved into the door in frustration._

_Like a cellist with their instrument, firm hands had flipped her round with practiced ease. And Velvet had continued in an authoritative tone leaving nothing up for debate,_

_"We are going home, _ **now**_ ! I am going to leave, you are going to follow in 10 minutes. No more, no less.-" She had murmured threateningly,"- If you don't there _**will**_ be consequences.-"_

_Velvet's fingers had snaked up into her fiancee's short hair at the nape of her neck pulling Coco down those infuriating few inches of height difference, her lips hovering over the model's painted in blood red. When she tried to lean down to sneak a kiss Velvet gripped her hair tugging on the cusp of pleasurable pain, and husked._

_"Behave!"_

_Only when Coco relented with a pout had Velvet let go watching her through slitted eyes for a fraction of a second. She had checked the delicate gold wrist watch and pressed a chaste kiss to Coco's cheek - a small check in that this was still all a game - leaving the fashion designer alone in the bathroom stall shaken and painfully turned on. The sound of the thumping bass of music suddenly becoming louder and then swiftly muted indicated Velvet had left the restroom altogether._

_Coco Adel made it outside to the parking lot in six and was in the back of the town car in seven._

_On the ride over to Coco's factory conversion in Queens the photographer hadn't even acknowledged her existence._

-x-x-x-x-

Car idling at the curb, Velvet is now sat waiting expectantly watching Coco with dark eyes and a hungry glint that is making her squirm. When she speaks it is low, almost a growl. "Do I need to remind you of your manners?"

The tone of her voice and the warning conjures up images that causes a jolt of delicious electricity to pool in Coco's stomach and her clit to throb. She briefly considers staring back in defiance but that sort of attention is not what she seeks. Not this evening. That particular type of attention is to be savored for another time. 

Velvet clears her throat. "I'm waiting, Coco."

Fingers slipping off chrome she fumbles the door handle, quickly scans the street for any lurking paparazzi before swinging out her legs - so as not to potentially flash anyone - steps out and wriggles her hips as a way to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress caused by the ride over and alleviate the borderline uncomfortable stickiness of her upper inner thighs before rounding the back of the car; briefly bathing her legs in red light.

Opening the passenger side door, Coco offers out her hand for Velvet to take. 

Velvet chooses to ignore it, alighting from the vehicle under her own steam, demanding, "In front. I want to see your ass when you walk upstairs."

From behind her she can hear the sharp click of stilettos echoing off the sidewalk and she deliberately adds more sway to her hips feeling the appraisal. 

It had been a strange thing to find pleasure in being watched. Yes, one would think that a career forged in front of the camera it would be a given. Yes, it was pleasurable to be admired and seen - to say other wise would make her a liar- but it had never been born of sexual desire. 

That hadn't been something she had discovered - amongst other things- until Velvet, such as how she enjoyed being bossed around or her rebellious streak. That had been as much as a surprise as finding out that Velvet wasn't a shrinking violet by any stretch of the imagination.

_Carrie had mistakenly believed Velvet a virtuoso when she should have been calling her Maestro, the way she ensnared everyone around her playing a piece of music only she can hear._

She mounts the steps that lead up to the entrance of their shared home and she can feel Velvet hang back as her fingers slip over the keypad keying in the code, waiting for the click of the the door, and then she begins the arduous task of unlocking very bolt cursing under her breath at her desperate need for heightened security and lack of foresight. 

There is no one else to blame but herself. 

But she supposes it is a small price to pay now that she has something far more precious to protect.

It swings open with a hiss and the automated voice calls out its own commands that she doesn't find half as charming as the ones that she craves from the woman who is now so close behind her she can feel hot breath on the nape of her neck.

Fingers ghost on the expensive silken fabric that clings to her hips.

"I'll get it.-" Coco goes to walk down the hallway, eager to make it to the stairwell, but she is stopped mid footfall, "- Stay there!"

She waits impatiently, watching how Velvet takes her time to set the security system and click every lock home going so far to double and triple check them in a way Coco suspects is out of wishing to rile her rather than born of due diligence.

It is confirmed when Coco stamps her foot like a wayward colt, and all it earns is for Velvet to swing the keys on her index finger and go over each one painstakingly slowly.

"Something wrong, Coco?" It's playful yet dangerously daring, like she is egging her to say otherwise. 

The temptation to answer it impetuously is like a siren's call, but to be impertinent or brattish will only serve to draw out this game. She notices how Velvet's dark eyes travel up her frame from the offending Jimmy Choo, lingering hungrily in places before meeting Coco's stare. They hold each others gaze for a beat, the moment swells with the anticipation of an audience watching a Prima Donna ballerina slowly raising on pointe, unfurling her leg on the apex. Coco gives in, her willing acceptance signified by demurely ducking her head and eyes fixing on the ground. She replies meekly. "No, Maestro."

"That's what I thought." Velvet cockily spins the keys once again for good measure, "-Ritenuto"

The words tumble from Coco's lips almost in reverence. "Yes, Maestro."

She slowly climbs the stairs, the clack of their heels the only sound in the minimalist hallway; an accent in this music they make. Making the landing, they pass by the turn of the century service elevator that can be cranked by hand and arrive at a heavy mahogany door - the imposing edges of dark brown it is almost black, framing thick frosted bullet proof glass inlaid with wrought iron flowers and vines- its purpose to dissuade any who seek beyond without permission. 

Velvet reaches around her keying in a second code; the keypad and chrome in juxtaposition to the steampunk muted browns, copper and tarnished golds of the turn of the century technology she had chosen they forego.

Slipping the silver key into the lock Velvet pushes it open with a small grunt, the only indication as to it's weight. Wordlessly, she quirks her head giving Coco permission to enter.

-x-x-x-x-

Once inside Velvet flicks on the lights, adjusting the dial until she is satisfied by the dim mood lighting, discards the keys in a bowl on the side board and peels out of her suit jacket. Ignoring her paramour she takes her time to hang it up on a coat hanger, sliding her hands over the material to get rid of any creases before hanging it in the cleverly hidden closet. 

It is only them here this evening and Velvet does not have Coco's penchant for leaving her possessions to be seen to by others, she much prefers the hands on approach. Often, she chides the model about her slovenliness and expectation to be waited on hand and foot, sometimes resulting in a swift lesson in what exactly _service_ entails.

Making it into the open plan kitchen and living space, Coco watches as Velvet takes down two crystal cut tumblers filling them with cool filtered water from the state of the art refrigerator. She holds them as if whiskey, raising one to Coco's parted, painted lips and instructs. "Drink."

Never taking her eyes off Velvet, she gulps greedily; far thirstier than she realized. Only when she is slaked does she break from the smooth polished edge leaving a faint red imprint of lips marring its rim. Velvet sedately sips her own, Coco focuses on the sheen of moisture left on a plump bottom lip in its wake, shiny and inviting.

Velvet very precisely places both tumblers on coasters, aware how Walter hates rings on the highly polished marble slab that makes up the main kitchen island. She turns her back to it, the extra height of the Louboutins making it easy for her to lean her ass against the counter. She slips her hands in her trouser pockets, cockily angles her hips forward and ever so slightly angles her shoulders back. 

It's a pose of raw power. 

Coco's eats it up, how the no expenses spared tailored to fit suit pants accentuates her curves and the heels giving the impression that her legs go on for days, the exquisitely crafted Prada shirt open dangerously low just above her navel, the curve of her breasts winking from behind luxurious fabric like burlesque dancers designed to titillate.

Velvet's voice is thick, almost creamy like swirling Swiss chocolate. "Come here."

Licking her lips, Coco approaches tentatively; like a fawn being coaxed out in to the clearing from the shadowy protection of the woods. Velvet pushes herself off the counter, bridging that small gap invading Coco's space. One firm hand on Coco's rib cage pulling her roughly forward, the other finding purchase in the soft short locks of hair at the nape of Coco's neck. The model almost squeaks from the unexpected entrapment. 

There's an anticipatory pause - a crescendo - swelling with a gentle brush of a nose and lips hovering millimetres from each other. Coco wants nothing more than to claim them but a show of temerity will only result in punishment. Her eyelids flutter closed in surrender.

Velvet is on her, intent on claiming her, with teeth nipping and sucking at lips and wet tongues claiming territory leaving smudged lipstick in its wake. Coco's fingers claw into the cords of Velvet's back needing an anchor as she is on the cusp of losing herself to being devoured until, both breathless, they are forced to break apart for air. 

Her grip on Coco's hair softens a little, stroking the back of her head and her neck. Her nose is flared whilst she breaths in lungs full of air and Coco relaxes into the soothing ministrations; a point to concentrate on. 

A firm hand travels from Coco's ribs, over the luxurious material of her dress so slow it is infuriating.

It's as if Velvet is mapping each curve, committing them to memory, journeying along the contour of her ass, dipping underneath the hem of her dress and trailing up the inside of a quivering thigh. 

Coco's breaths are coming in a ragged staccato as she sinks into the sensation of searching fingertips. She rests her forehead against Velvet's, forcing her legs to remain under her control as butterflies flutter further up to the apex swiping dangerously close causing Coco's breath to momentarily hitch.

All too quickly fingers retreat and Coco breathes a keening whine. 

"So needy." Velvet murmurs mockingly in her ear. 

She pulls back and inspects her fingers. They can both see the glistening residue of Coco's arousal. She raises them to Coco's parted lips, dancing them feather-light before dipping her middle finger into Coco's awaiting, eager mouth. 

Coco watches Velvet watching her through hooded eyes when she very gently sucks, encasing her lover's finger in hot wet heat. She can taste herself on her tongue and it is not something she shies from, letting out a minuscule appreciative moan. She enjoys how Velvet catches her own bottom lip between her polished teeth, the pink flesh turning white. Pleased at the reaction, she sensually draws it in up to the first knuckle, swirling her tongue round the tip before slowly letting go, never breaking eye contact and moving onto Velvet's index finger. 

Her lips try to hold it when Velvet pulls it out. "Tsk, tsk. Don't start misbehaving now, not when you're being so _good_."

Reluctantly, Coco lets it go and Velvet trails the wet finger tip over the her playmate's bottom lip, down her chin, under her jaw and breaks away before it arrives at the silver symbol of their game.

"I'm sorry, Maestro."

"I'll let you off, just this once, my sweet."

The affectionate term is an in game indicator of things to come, a change in pace that makes Coco throb. Velvet leans back on both hands, her palms on the edges of the counter and she alternates back to the authoritative tone. "Undress me."

All too eager, Coco's hands fly to the buttons of Velvet's shirt but a hand snakes out like lightening, gripping her wrist; firm but not hard enough to hurt. It's a growled command. " _Ritenuto!_ "

With shaky fingers Coco slowly unbuttons the first one, briefly glancing at Velvet as she hesitates over the second. She receives a minuscule nod to continue. Velvet's usually warm brown eyes are now inky black pools and she is their sole focus as she resumes popping each button from its snug.

She tugs at the material where it is trapped in the waist of the trousers and Velvet simply leans back, accentuating and showing off the plains of her trim stomach that winks through the semi-parted box plate. Once the bottom hem is free the box plate parts, falling either side of her rib cage. 

Reaching out, Coco explores the firm contours of Velvet's abdomen trailing the vertical divot down to her navel enjoying how it twitches under her touch. She curls her fingers drawing her nails down Velvet's lower stomach leaving eight faint red marks stark against ivory skin. It garners her a small hiss and a barely discernible canting forward of hips and she allows herself a small smirk of satisfaction.

And Velvet must sense it as she commands. "Get on your _fucking_ knees."

At first she is confused until Velvet lifts up her leg a fraction and turns in her left foot clad in the wickedly black skyscraper of a heel. Velvet doesn't offer a hand to help keep her steady - a devious upturning quirk of an eyebrow telling her she must fend for herself.

She sinks to her knees in a sitting kneel; like she is an acolyte in benediction at the alter of a Goddess. And Coco is willing to give her Maestro any worship she desires.

Under the ever watchful gaze, she methodically removes one heel and then the other before rising to a standing kneel and reaching for the button of Velvet's trousers. Again she hesitates, waiting for permission. She receives it in the form of a caress of her cheek.

Unsnapping the button she draws down the zipper, fingers leaving the cool metal, stroking round along the curve of Velvet's ass up and hooking into the waistband. As she pulls them down over the curve of her ass and down her hips, Velvet's lace lingerie is slowly revealed. 

Coco is face to face with the gossamer thin material barricading her from what she so desperately wants to taste and she fights the urge to rush this, to lean forward and press the flat of her tongue against damp cloth. Her head tips forward to rest against Velvet's warm lower abdomen and she lets out a groan when fingers curl in her hair reminding her that it is not hers to take. 

_Yet._

Velvet squeezes her thighs together removing the temptation and allowing the trousers to pool round her ankles as she croons. "Such a good girl." 

The praise is like a tonic, cool and refreshing, the sense of accomplishment washing over her as Velvet nudges the trousers to one side leaving them coiled like shedded snake skin on the tiles of the kitchen floor. It is almost a form of torture in of itself when Coco's fingers creep up and hook round the band of the infernal cloth over Velvet's hips, the restraint when she captures the heady aroma her nose centimetres from the trimmed thatch of dark curls.

She scowls darkly in frustration when Velvet tips back her head slightly and tells her. "My heels."

Coco collapses back seiza taking each heel and slipping them on each foot as if she is a Prince of fairy tale and these are made of the finest of glass. Velvet removes the golden cuff-links from the cuffs at her wrists, very precisely placing them on the counter with a _clink_ and then begins to roll up her sleeves to reveal toned forearms never taking her gaze from the woman in front of her. Only when she is satisfied does Velvet open her legs invitingly, towering over Coco looking down on her with a shark like grin.

Raising on her knees, Coco strokes trembling hands up the back of smooth thighs, laying open mouthed kisses on the inside rushing towards her destination. A tug on her hair brings her back from the brink. "...ritenuto..."

She wrinkles her nose in slight annoyance and returns to her ministrations, sucking and nipping a little peevishly. Yet another devilish smirk breaks out on her face when she feels Velvet's legs begin to quake.

_She is so close._

Her tongue catches the taste of something Coco has come to think of as nectar and she is determined to follow it back to its source. She squeezes her own thighs together in response seeking some relief from the painful throbbing between her legs keeping time with her heartbeat. 

This time the tug on her hair is harsh, teetering on that knife's edge between painful and pleasurable. The reminder is forceful and accompanied by a glare. "I _said_...Ritenuto!-" evilly, Velvet closes her legs, "- But if you insist on being a brat..?"

The words come out desperately, almost pleading. "I'm sorry, Maestro."

After a tense few seconds she is given a reprieve, disappointment replaced by elation when Velvet guides her forward. This time she is slow and methodical, savoring every moment and her patience is rewarded when Velvet opens her legs wider. Her lips glistening with arousal. 

Coco breathes in the heady aroma. It's all at once intoxicating and inviting. Instinctively her tongue flickers out, catching the most tantalizing taste on its tip. She immediately wants more, her tongue eagerly searching for its source.

Flattening out her tongue she uses broad strokes, lapping at everything Velvet is offering as if she has been starved. One of her hands drifts between her own thighs and Velvet growls. "Hands were I can fucking see them!" 

She snakes her hands under and round - gripping Velvet's thighs so they are almost over her shoulders - forgoing her own pleasure after Velvet's hips buck forward when Coco curls the tip of her tongue inside and she hears a whispered admonishment. "... _fuck_..."

She angles underneath - her neck at an almost painful slant when she seeks to bury her tongue further- sticky wetness all over her chin and mouth. Velvet's fingers curl in her hair pressing her closer still.

She swirls her tongue inside as deep as she can go and back out, her nose pressed against soft curls as she trails it up flicking the tip against the unhooded nub of Velvet's clitoris. Velvet hooks her leg over her playmate's shoulder completely and Coco can feel the sharp point of the stiletto lightly scraping in a pendulum swing against her bare back.

She barely sees it as a distraction, Velvet's pleasure is her main concern. She sucks lightly on the nub and flicks it with her tongue coupling broad strokes on the alternate. Her fiancee has never been overly loud, the soundtracks to her orgasms usually coming in whimpers and muted moans. Coco risks a glance and it is a vision of splendor. 

Velvet's head is thrown back - leaning on one hand on the counter for support - her eyes are closed and her mouth silently hangs open gasping for air. 

Coco removes one hand from Velvet's thigh and sinks two fingers three knuckles deep into willing liquid heat, and it elicits a response that sounds far more beautiful to her ears than any piece of music played by the New York Philharmonic. "...fuck...babe.. _Yes!_."

It's desperate and wanton.

The hand in her hair tightens its grip as Velvet's gyrates her hips, meeting Coco's every thrust and curl of her fingers, and she pants. "...like that babe....like that.."

Coco can feel Velvet's leg begin to tremble and she has clamped her hand on the back of Coco's head keeping her exactly were she needs her, bucking against the tongue and lips Coco is offering in service. She is fucking herself on her lover's curling fingers and questing eager tongue and Coco moans at being used. 

The apartment echoes with Velvet's gasps, the once rhythmic canting of her hips becomes erratic rushing towards a release. Coco's fingers are in such a vice like grip she thinks they might break as Velvet orgasms with a quickly chanted mantra of curses followed by a loud moan.

Coco watches her gasp for air, her body exquisitely clenching and unfolding, hand no longer gripping Coco's hair but tenderly carding through it, thighs quivering either side of Coco's ears. Coco very slowly removes her fingers garnering a shudder, and she laps at everything Velvet has to offer. Cheekily, she swipes her tongue over Velvet's sensitive nub for good measure. There is an involuntary buck of her hips and Velvet gently pushes Coco away.

Trying to rub some feeling back into her knees, Coco sinks back seiza style to admire her handiwork. Her claiming marks left in trails of red on the inside of creamy thighs next to blossoming nips that will make themselves known in the morning. 

There's a lazy smile on Velvet's face, a post coital glow made up of a mixture of the flush on her cheeks and perspiration on her skin. Her head is tipped forward, chest rapidly rising and falling and her lips are parted. Eyes flutter open to land on Coco who is patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement. 

Worn as a badge of honor, Coco's face and chin is painted with the evidence of her accomplishment intermingled with her now thoroughly ruined make up. 

Velvet chuckles darkly, "You delicious little hussy."

With a prideful grin, Coco goes to wipe her wet and sticky face but stops when she hears. " _Don't!_...I like you like that...It suits you!"

What Velvet is implying pulls at the cracks of a taboo. Something that Coco shouldn't like but does. It conjures images of street corners and lights in shades of red, playing at the shadows of the darker parts of Coco's past with shades of humiliation.

And it is an indication that their game is far from over.


	2. Chapter 2

.  
.  
.  
Raising her wrist in front of her chest, Velvet fiddles with the thin band of clock-maker's gold. A masterful subtle check in without breaking the scene. And Coco is willing to play, resuming the piece by averting her gaze and dropping her hand curling it in a slowly closed fist on her knee.

If this was sheet music it would be their _Dal Segno._

The silence between them swells - a non-chord tone anticipating the arrival of the next - bursting with promise and unanswered desires as if each one is being carefully counted and measured. And finally Maestro breaks it. "On your feet."

It is a _Tremolo_ on the sustained note playing on Coco's finely tuned strings.

She climbs to her feet, ignoring the tiny pricks of pins and needles in her calves and shins choosing instead to subtly shake them out as she walks to the bedroom followed by Velvet like a phantom. She does not need to look behind for confirmation. Coco can feel her presence, her aura, and it causes her skin to goosebumps in the most delicious of ways.

Their bedroom is bathed in an garish orange glow spilling through the windows from the street lights but it is blotted out by the magic of smart glass technology turning transparent to opaque with a flick of a switch. 

Velvet's fingers dance over buttons on the wall and the bedroom is now illuminated in a sensual light much better suited to their mood. As a photographer light manipulation and its importance is something Velvet is all to familiar with and she is a sorcerer. With a flick of her wrist, she creates a physical atmosphere to compliment the one she has so exquisitely woven around her paramour. 

Coco goes as if to move to the bed but is suddenly wrapped in strong arms from behind, the feverish skin of her bare back brushing against the curves of Velvet's warm breasts. The flat of a palm against her decolletage and the other pressing lightly against her lower abdomen. With practiced ease she is turned towards the full length mirror, perfectly angled to take advantage of the best light.

She meets her own reflection and she does not shy from it. Her disheveled hair, the last vestiges of smudged blood red lipstick clinging to her lips, the flush on her cheeks and the silver choker which glitters and shimmers.

She can feel she's being watched and she answers the call holding the intense gaze of Velvet's mirrored twin. The lower half of her face is obscured by Coco's shoulder, her inky black eyes peering from behind. Gone is the soft warmth replaced with a wildness Coco would call feral, like the devil herself is lurking in the shadows.

Warm lips encase her skin, the swipe of a wet tongue against her trapezius, though both in heels there is still a few inches height difference it is a place Velvet can easily reach and a place that Coco loves lavished attention. It is slow and hungry as if Velvet is biting the soft pulpy flesh of a peach. Coco feels the scraping of sharp teeth, nipping and soothed by a gentle suck ending in a salve of swollen lips. 

Sinking into the sweet sensation she lets out a shaky sigh of satisfaction, angling her neck to allow Velvet better access and a symbol of invitation. And it is taken with a bite coupled with hard suction, teeth slowly grazing to end in a drawn out nip only relinquished at the last possible moment causing Coco's every synapse to spark. 

It will most certainly leave a mark. And she hopes, no prays, that it is one of many.

Velvet's continues to alternate between soft kisses, nips and bites, the hand on Coco's chest enduringly trails down other the material of the silken dress applying an all too brief pressure to her left breast, cruelly skirting over Coco's erect and sensitive nipple causing her to let out a minuscule gasp.

The hand trails along her ribs and then leaves, swiftly returning to undo the fastening of the halter dress at the back of her neck. Let loose from its trappings the silken material of the front of the dress gives in to gravity falling away to reveal Coco's bare breasts.

She feels a rumbling hum of satisfaction against her skin.

Fingers trail feather light down the divots of her spinal column; so light it is almost ticklish. It journeys long her ribs and skirts the soft underside on her breast coming up to cup it in full. Velvet palms the weight, rolling Coco's nipple between her thumb and forefinger teasing it resulting in a fleeting pleasurable sting. 

Coco's eyes flutter closed. 

She loves this, being encased in strong arms and ensnared in a web of competing sensations, the supporting softness of Velvet's satiny skin at her back, her hot ravishing mouth, the harshness of her fingers and the firmness of the palm on her lower abdomen trapping her. She is malleable in her fiancee's skilled hands and she wants to sink into it, allow it to roll over her in waves. 

The rolling of her nipple ends in a pinch and Coco whimpers. A growled warning against her ear with a harsh, stinging nip that lingers for a few seconds. "Open your eyes, Coco!"

Not wishing to disappoint drags her from her stupor. Breathing in through her nose, Coco steadies herself in preparation to meet the molten, predatory gaze of her Maestro.

Velvet's hand leaves her breast and instantly Coco mourns its loss, wishing to voice her displeasure. She holds her tongue when Velvet's hand creeps up her chest to her neck and firm fingers encase her pale throat applying light pressure, the bottom of the sliver choker resting in the purlicue between thumb and forefinger. In tandem her right hand journeys in the opposite direction down to cup in between Coco's legs.

It's torturous, the fluttering of fingers against her painfully throbbing clit muted by the barrier of clothing. Coco can feel her arousal coating the inside of her thighs. Almost wobbling on her heels, she tries to grind down to find some sort of friction but the grip on her throat tightens holding her in place. The opposing hands are giving her a choice - precious oxygen or sweet relief. She can have one or the other, but not both. 

And this is what Velvet wanted her to see. To witness her own desperation. 

A myriad of emotions and momentary indecision flicker across her face. She trusts Velvet like she has trusted no other. In defiance she willingly presses into Velvet's grip - which remains steadfast - trying to grind against those infuriating fingers that remain just out of reach. She is like a newly haltered foal seeking freedom from a head-collar that seeks to temper her. 

The need to breathe -to feel sweet air in her lungs- out weighs the desire of pleasure and she breaks with a grunt of frustration gathering her legs underneath and raising to full height.

Velvet croons mockingly in her ear, "Always so _rebellious_."

The hands remain for a beat, a soft kiss pressed against her skin as gentle reassurance and then they are gone. The heat of Velvet's breasts flush against her back is replaced by cool air as she retreats.

Coco's focus remains on her reflection even as she hears the soft _puft-puft_ of something moving on the bed. She drinks in the red marks on her chest and admires the brand of trust on her neck that will fade in a matter of minutes and basks in the dulled stings of the marks on her back that will linger and she will never see, their purpose not intended for _her_ eyes.

Velvet demands her attention, "On the bed!"

Turning, her eyes travel Velvet's naked form, up her shapely legs, lingering on trimmed dark curls making her mouth water, up a sculptured stomach, over pert breasts and dusky nipples coyly winking from behind the shirt that remains. And Coco is grateful and she wonders how she has gotten so lucky that this gorgeous, patient woman loves her so openly and wants to spend the rest of their lives together. 

Velvet steps out of the heels neatly placing them side by side to the right of the foot of the bed.

Their Queen sized bed had been custom made with no expense spared; the beautifully crafted headboard would look to any laymen as nothing more than a piece of art. Cleverly hidden within the craftsmanship were circles and fittings for custom made _attachments_ and the legs had been measured and adjusted to the perfect comfortable height.

Obediently, Coco sits on the lip end of the bed, the large duck-down duvet has been tossed to the side on the floor leaving behind the bed-sheet and pillows. Velvet remains at a distance and she demands. "Up on your fucking knees."

Coco goes to remove her heels, but Velvet stays her by adding, "Leave them on, I like them."

Crawling onto the bed Coco assumes the position, breasts falling forward unfettered, ass in the air and feet clad in stilettos hanging off the lip of the comfortable mattress. She knows the rules and she doesn't dare peek at the sound of a cupboard opening and closing, nor the rustle of something she is not familiar with no matter how hot her burning curiosity. 

_She is so close to her goal, she can taste it!_

"Pillows under your hips!"

Scrambling up the bed, she grabs two doing as she was instructed and she can't hold back a shiver of delight at the fortissimo of Velvet's potential intention. She can hear Velvet moving about the room and suddenly the mood lighting dips to a darker shade casting the corners of the room in shadow. There comes a quietly uttered curse just on the cusp of hearing followed by the light jangle of metal as if something is being secured. Coco fights the urge to look- no matter how desperately she wants to - her mind running rampant with the possibilities.

Filling her lungs with an anticipatory breath, her head dips forward. 

Velvet is so light on her feet Coco nearly squeaks when firm hands unexpectedly encase her hips. Her playmate's elongated silhouette is cast on the bed-sheet and the headboard in front of Coco, large and looming. Coco playfully wiggles her hips which earns a dark chuckle, "So eager."

Velvet takes her time, palming the apples of her ass cheeks through the now skin tight material of the dress, following the curves down to her thighs at a leisurely pace like a sculptor admiring a slab of marble about to be teased into a masterpiece, and Coco loves the appraisal. Fingers curl at the hem and it is excruciatingly slowly rolled up her thighs, over the lip of her ass cheeks and left in a bunch at the small of her back reducing the four thousand dollar garment to nothing more than a belt and it is a crime that Coco is willing to suffer.

She is hoping the reveal pays dividends and she begins to receive them when Velvet's mouth descends on her back and she feels the murmur vibrating against taunt muscle, encased in nipping, sharp teeth. "You're not wearing any panties.-" fingers languidly sweep up through the slick wetness coating Coco's inner thigh and with another graze of teeth, Velvet husks, "- You're fucking drenched.-" air cools the moist bites left in her wake as Velvet retreats and she laboriously slides one finger inside Coco with ease. "- Slut."

She slowly begins to draw it out, continuing, "I could have taken you on that dance floor...I bet you would have liked that, hmm? My fingers inside you... _fucking_ you, with no one the wiser...Or would you prefer they knew?"

The filth spilling from the usually soft spoken and timid photographer's mouth in that harsh tone never fails to make Coco weak and it is a symbol - a coda - that what they have been building towards is about to begin in earnest.

She _needs_ more, her insides are pulsing around nothing and she tries to chase Velvet's finger, follow it back. A firm hand on her ass stops her. Coco lets out a desperate whimper when it slides out completely.

There's an enticing change in cadence, a pianissimo.

"Sshhhh, shhh, I know, I know.-" Velvet grips the hinge of Coco's hip and she can feel the residue of her own arousal coating one finger on the hand that seeks to hold her in place. Nails of a right hand rake up the back of Coco's thigh in a dull sting causing her to wordlessly open and close her mouth intent on making it through and Velvet's voice becomes dangerously low, "- But first you must take your punishment."

Coco tenses. 

_What did she do? Or what had she done?_

She quickly runs through every scenario that has played out this evening and nothing glaringly obvious comes to mind.

Velvet begins to palm her right ass cheek to coax Coco to relax in preparation. The laugh that spills from her has a dark, devilish quality. "Thought I'd forgotten, didn't you, my sweet?...Ten minutes! No more, no less..."

Coco breathes, "Oh, fuck."

"What was that?"

She quickly covers up her mistake, not wishing to incur anymore punishment than she has to. "Nothing, Maestro."

Velvet hums at the slight infraction, continuing to knead the soft, pliant flesh. "One for every minute should suffice, don't you think?"

Velvet is giving her a choice, a chance to speak. Coco's hands curl into the material of the bedspread gripping it as she chokes out. "Yes, Maestro."

"And how many is that?"

She tries to concentrate to remember through the haze of the evening, and it comes to her like a ghost ship out of the fog. "Three, Maestro."

"And an extra one for your rebelliousness, so four all together!"

And Coco willingly accepts it, closing her eyes. "Yes, Maestro. Four."

Velvet squeezes her ass cheek before removing it and the hold on Coco's hip tightens. Coco breaths in deep, forcing herself to relax. She gives a little shake of her head to help loosen out her shoulders, knowing the ever watchful Velvet will take it as a sign that she is ready to receive what she deserves.

The first open palmed slap lands with a _thwack_ echoing in the room, leaving behind a sharp sting. Dutifully, Coco counts them out with colors of intensity, a mutually crafted four point map of safety. 

"Green."

The second one lands and it is followed by a soothing stroke to help even out the smart. 

"Green."

These spanks aren't designed to be too painful but rather more employed to humiliate and remind Coco of the consequences of not paying attention and following orders to the letter. The hold on her hips tightens again and the third slap is delivered.

And small grunt escapes her and she squirms a little at the dull sting that is beginning to bloom over abused flesh.

"Green!"

This time Coco feels the sweep of something skirting the back of her thigh that doesn't feel like a thumb or flesh for that matter. She doesn't have time to think what it could be as the thought is dispersed with the slightly harsher final slap expertly delivered in the same spot, 

"Yellow." she pants,

A practiced hand rubs her ass, massaging the sting into a dull pleasurable ache that will be forgotten in a few moments but will make itself sporadically known in the morning - a titillating private reminder of what they are sharing.

She doesn't think that she could be anymore turned on but she is.

She senses Velvet step closer and briefly feels something, cool and firm brush off her ass. Velvet parts her ass cheeks and lightly sweeps the pad of her thumb over Coco's sensitive asshole, making it involuntarily quiver. Coco is not adverse to it - she wants to give in- but it's something she hasn't prepared for.

It's as if Velvet is contemplating it, savoring Coco's uncertainty. Instead, Velvet dips her fingers between Coco's open and inviting legs. Coco feels the tip of something large and cool being guided, slipping between her folds. 

It remains frustratingly poised at her entrance for a long drawn out beat before it agonizingly slowly begins to fill her inch by inch. Choking on her breath Coco bows her back as it invades her; so leisurely it is bordering on excruciating. The start of the delicious stretch feels like bliss. She tries to cant back to meet Velvet's hips to have the dildo fill her and she cries out in frustrated desperation, aching and hollow, when Velvet draws back so slowly it is criminally lethargic leaving the tip tantalizingly hovering just inside her but nowhere near what Coco desperately seeks.

Velvet leisurely cants her hips, filling her in laborious increments, filling her in a way that Coco has been craving all evening. A low groan of relief escapes her as she finally feels Velvet's hips flush against her ass. Her paramour's grasp on her hips is light as she experimentally fucks her slowly, toying with her. Breath coming out ragged Coco grips the bed-sheet in twists, her insides fluttering round the hard dildo.

_And she _ **loves**_ this sweet sensation._

Just when Coco thinks Velvet's building a rhythm she cruelly stills her ministrations and Coco to lets out a keening whine. A simple command cuts through the haze, a fermata.

" _ **Beg!**_ " 

If Coco is a violin then this is Velvet holding the note on the frayed strings of her desire.

Head tipped forward, lips parted, Coco quietly pants, "Please."

A fraction of a thrust it is barely discernible, but it glances off a spot that makes Coco's legs tremble.

"I can't hear you." 

"Please, Maestro... _please_!.."

Her limbs are quaking from the strain and she doesn't know how much more of this she can take, she is a glutton for punishment but this goes far beyond that. Velvet's mouth nips at the flesh of her back, and nails dig into Coco's hips as she growls. "Yes?...What do you want me to do, my sweet?"

And finally Coco breaks. 

From her lips tumbles consonants and vowels like a benediction, each word punctuated with gasped breath as she pleads, "Fuck me, please, _please_ God, _fuck_ me.-" The last word comes out as a yearning prayer, "- Maestro."

And this is Velvet's cadenza.

Velvet fucks her with even strokes and smalls grunts of effort until she's fucking her so hard Coco's arms collapse underneath her. Her cheek is smooshed into the pillow and she's gripping the bed-sheet in knots; not knowing which will give first, her knuckles that are turning bone white or the fibers in the material in the Egyptian cotton sheets. The slap of skin off skin echoes through out the room and it is obscene and it joins a torridly filthy chorus. "You like this, hmm?-' muffled, Coco moans into the mattress, when Velvet adds, "- Me fucking you like this?"

Velvet's pace is relentless, sharp nails digging into flesh, and a snaking hand tugs the hair on the back of Coco's head. "Answer me!" 

There's a warmth rushing through her muscles and she begins to float. Coco can barely think, barely breath, but she knows if she doesn't answer Velvet will take it as a indication she has lost her to subspace and stop, and Coco knows that Velvet is building to a rising crescendo. "Yes, Maestro!.. _yes_ , please...don't stop!"

Velvet's hand leaves her hair and slithers in between her legs, curling under the inside of her thigh, hand firmly clamping on the outside gripping soft flesh. She lifts Coco's leg off the mattress and pulls her back. Coco doesn't think Velvet can get any deeper but she's proven wrong. The new angle has Velvet hitting a sweet spot and Coco sees stars.

There's the clatter of something hitting the floor but Coco doesn't care, focusing solely on Velvet fucking her mercilessly. Lewd appreciative moans escape her when Velvet grunts. "Forte!"

Coco is not religious but this makes her the most devoted of converts. She loudly offers prayers to Velvet, to any Gods that might listen. Her lungs burn from all too brief air drafted before it is expelled. She needs something else to hold on to, to alleviate the ache in her knuckles. Blindly she searches, looking for purchase and finds none. Her hand drifts up to the back of her neck, and Velvet's stroke falters and only resumes when Coco's hand drifts past the clasp of the choker to grip the back of her own head and remains. 

Coco is floating, swirling in a kaleidoscopic haze of pinks and golds, her toes curl, the pressure swells and builds. Every synapse courses and jumps with electricity. It breaks like a bursting dam and she comes with a cry, devolving into chants and moans of Velvet's name over and over.

"Da Coda.-" she murmurs through heaving breaths, her voice scratching over abused vocal chords "- da coda."

An utterance that begins Velvet's diminuendo, the tempo of her thrusts gradually slowing and becoming less forceful. Each one eeking out a soft low moan, teasing and drawing out the remains of Coco's orgasm and she hears a whispered admonishment. "....fuck babe..."

She collapses boneless on the bed when - as if she is the most delicate of porcelain- Velvet gently lowers her to rest on the support of the pillows, ass still slightly propped in the air. She follows close behind adding a layer of warmth to Coco's rapidly cooling perspiring skin. Still inside her, Velvet gently cants her hips and she scoops her arms under the front of Coco's shoulders holding her in place.

A melody of expression begins. The final piece of their aria. 

Velvet is tenderly planting a trail of languid kisses up her back, over her shoulders, her neck, her cheek, her ear, whispering sweet words of praise.

This is what Coco has been searching for since she donned the choker and Velvet snapped on the matching piece of clock-makers gold, to be masterfully guided through the astral plain of being thoroughly debauched to soft worship and onto the horizon of raw and exposed vulnerability.

_Her Maestro._

Her paramour fucks her softly, sweetly, so gentle and tenderly gyrating, Coco's swollen clit grinds into the fabric of the pillow beneath, and her sensitive nipples brush off the bed-sheet. Like lapping oceans waves soothing footsteps in the sand, a second orgasm washes over Coco, leaving her a adrift in a sea of calm and she reaches a place of freedom, trapped between the comforting weight of her lover and the bed. She is like a drowned man sinking beneath the water in a muted warm haze; a cocoon of peace and acceptance.

She feels Velvet's own orgasm as she shudders against her, with a hotly breathed, quiet, "...fuck..." on her skin before she collapses. Coco feels the thumping of Velvet's heartbeat and it matches her own.

Her eyes closed and a lazy smile on her face, Coco basks in it, floating and light. Velvet croons against her ear. "Are you OK, my sweet?"

It takes her a moment to form words, to gather her faculties and she can feel the slight worry as Velvet very tenderly cards her hair. Without opening her eyes, she mumbles. "Perfect, my Maestro."

"Good girl."

With reverence Velvet unclasps the fastening of the choker and it falls away.

"I love you." Coco utters, softly. 

Entwining their fingers, Velvet replies, affectionately, "I love you too, Carrie." 

She tries to punctuate it with a kiss as close to Coco's mouth as she can but it moves the dildo and scraps sharp metal fastening over tender skin. Coco lets out a hiss and she whimpers, "Ow." 

Very slowly, Velvet crawls back, and very carefully eases the strap-on out, and Coco immediately misses her. She whines needily, cracking open one eye a slither. "Come back." 

And Velvet makes assurances as she collects the choker, discards it on one of the bedside lockers with its golden partner from her wrist, and picks up the crinkly sounding duck down duvet off the floor gently laying it over her and removes the one surviving stiletto from Coco's foot. "I will, babe, I promise."

And Coco rests safe in the knowledge that it is the truth, as certain as the life giving rising Sun. 

She doesn't know how long she has been out, drifting in a warm haze, but she groggily opens her eyes at the sound of something being put on the bedside cabinet, and the small shaft of dim light that permeates her cozy cocoon when Velvet lifts up the corner of the duvet. There comes a greeting laced with affection. "Hey." 

Her arms are weak but Coco manages to peel her torso off the bed just a fraction. Her eyes struggle to focus. She feels the bed dip as Velvet climbs into it. She's too far away and Coco voices her displeasure. Peering into the darkness, Velvet coaxes, "If you come up here, I'll give you all the cuddles you deserve."

Yet Coco remains. Velvet adds. "I've got food."

"Bribery!" Coco mutters. 

"Is it working?"

"You know it does.-" she lethargically crawls up the bed, pulling back the edge of the duvet and she grouses with a pout, "-You're evil."

Velvet holds out an arm in offering and Coco snuggles under its shelter. Velvet lavishes gentle lingering kisses at her temple and in her damp hair. "You wanna have a shower?"

Coco can't imagine the thought of moving and she doubts she'll be able to stand for any length of time. "Nahuuu." there's a moment then Coco says "- I'm famished."

It's not unkind just a statement of fact delivered with a light chuckle. "You always are, after....-" Velvet is no nonsense about aftercare and refuses to forego it. It is one of the few times that she sees Coco's penchant for being waited on hand and foot as not indulgence but a prerequisite and none negotiable "- Here, drink this."

Velvet guides the glass of cool and refreshing juice to her lips and Coco guzzles it greedily. A soft hand caresses her back, careful not to brush against the bites that are beginning to make themselves known. "Want some banana?-" when Coco pulls a face, Velvet chides, "-You need your potassium." 

_She never ate so much fruit and so healthily until Velvet came along, she had never even ventured in to the crisper in the fridge and had no idea that Walter kept a Glock in there, until Velvet - without batting an eye - quiet calmly asked if the apples went next to the gun or just in the fruit bowl._

Velvet feeds her little bits of everything from the smorgasbord she has whipped up, cheese, grapes, little rolls of prosciutto. When she is full, Coco snuggles even closer seeking her lover's warmth. Licking her fingers, Velvet opens the laptop picking something funny and light hearted to play in the background to relax to. 

Coco never knows on nights like these if she will get hit with a burst of unexpected energy or gently drift into a slumber and the ever attentive Velvet is always prepared for either outcome.

Coco's hand strokes down the plains of Velvet's stomach to her hips and she can feel the grooves where the leather of the strap-on has bit into soft flesh. "Are you OK, babe?"

"Hmm, mmm...." fingers play with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, "- Are you?"

She presses a soft kiss to Velvet's skin. "Yeah." 

It's a mutually agreed upon decision that if they have any complaints or misgivings about their play they will voice them. If not, they will leave the deconstruction till the morning. A lingering kiss at her temple. "So Helen was telling me, she finally left Bernie...Took him for half of what he was worth and got custody of the kids." 

Coco snorts, "Serves him right."

But Coco spares him a thought and a rooftop in the eaves of the New York City skyline. And she muses that if he hadn't been a cheating rat bastard things might have played out quiet differently. 

"She's invited us to the Hamptons and I said yes."

Coco mumbles, not caring to temper her Oklahoman accent. "OK, bbz, I'll clear my schedules.-" _Whatever Velvet asks for, Velvet gets....No matter what it entails, Carrie Mortimer _ **and**_ Coco Adel will move heaven and earth to deliver._ "-She gots a pretty scool bridge-line comin out. I'm exciteds fer er."

The rhythmic shallow breathing, the rise and fall of Velvet's chest and the deep thrum of her heart under Coco's ear is hypnotic, lulling her towards a destination of dreams. Her lover clicks the light off, bathing them in the strange glow of the laptop screen and the sound of a published author YouTuber comically explaining a ridiculous lawsuit to do with ownership of a sub-genre of fiction with roots in debunked science of wolf behavior. 

Coco snorts a lazy chuckle at the mention of ABO. Velvet laughs against her hair. "I knew it!...Nerd!" 

She's losing consciousness, but she manages to garble a sentence... A call back to the moment when it had all begun to change for the better. "I.Like..yer...shoelacececss," 

She feels the smile against her hair, and the last thing she hears before she sinks is,

"I got them from the Pre...."


End file.
